by Sara Orwig
“I know,” she said, trying to get control. Her knees shook and she couldn’t stop the tears. “I just love him so much!” She spun around to face Fortune. “I’ve given him everything—all my love and attention and dreams for all these years. He’s like my own child!”
“But he isn’t your child,” he stated, looking at her with his cold blue eyes. She could feel the anger returning to his tone. “He’s my son.”
Nodding, she placed the cloth against her eyes. “I’ll get control. Just leave me alone.”
He waited in silence. She knew he hadn’t moved away, but she kept the cold cloth against her eyes. All her muscles were tense as she tried to keep from breaking into sobs. She hurt more than she had ever hurt in her life.
“Claire, do you want to sit down?”
She shook her head.
“Claire?”
She lowered the cloth from her eyes and turned her back to him.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said with quiet deliberation. “I’ve watched you with Michael, and I know that Michael loves you and needs you.”
She whirled back around feeling a glimmer of hope. Would he let her be a nanny for Michael?
He fidgeted restlessly, running his fingers through his dark hair, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I loved Marilee with all my heart, and I’ll never love another woman again.” He placed his hands on his hips. “She was the love of my life.” He stared at Claire and she waited, not following his drift.
“Michael needs you and you’re good for him,” Fortune said reluctantly.
Her heart began to drum. He was going to relent and let her be Michael’s nanny. Locking her hands together, she held her breath.
“While we’ve been traveling, I’ve seen how much Michael loves you.” Fortune paused, and she waited, not daring to breathe. “There won’t be any love involved, but I’m willing to marry you so you can stay with Michael.”
Chapter 11
Stunned, Claire felt her mouth drop open. Marriage!
Her knees began to shake and she felt light-headed. She moved to a chair to perch on it.
When she looked up, he was frowning slightly. “I can provide for both of you. I don’t expect to ever love again, so I won’t be giving up something in my future.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if he were wrestling with a knotty problem. “This way you could be a mother to Michael and get to stay with him.” He paused, studying her. “If you want a physical relationship, I’m willing, but I love only Marilee. If you don’t want me to touch you, I’ll honor your wishes.”
She barely heard any of the last because her heart thudded wildly. She felt as if she might faint. She could stay with Michael always! She wasn’t going to have to part with him. She could remain his mother. She realized Fortune was watching for her reaction and suddenly the relief was overwhelming. She burst into tears, trying to stop her shaking and crying, but overcome with joy that she could stay with Michael.
“Claire?”
She tried to get control, sobbing and waving the wet cloth at him. Wiping her eyes furiously, she looked up. “I can’t keep from crying. I thought I was going to lose him. I love him so very much.”
“I know you do. That’s why I’m offering this proposition. It’s the only solution I can see if you want to stay with him.”
“You were so angry with me—”
“That will pass with time. It angers me, but that’s all in the past and we might as well stop looking back. Do you want to marry me?”
“Yes! Oh, sweet heavens, yes!”
“There’s no love between us, and that won’t change,” he said, his blue eyes intent on her. “With time perhaps we can become close. You haven’t ever loved a man. I don’t know if you can understand, but I loved Marilee with all my heart.”
She wiped tears that spilled down her cheeks. “I understand, and I can accept that. I never expected to have a man in my life or love or marriage,” she said, still astounded that he had asked her to be his wife.
“You’re young. You may be throwing away your own future.”
“Oh, never!” she gasped, wanting to leap into the air and dance around the room with joy. “I love Michael with all my heart, and to think I can see him grow up and still be a mother to him is all I want.”
Fortune moved closer to her, and his warm fingers tilted her chin up. “I intend to be part of Atlanta society for Michael’s sake. We’ll mingle with lots of people. You’ve never been in love, and you may meet a man you’ll fall in love with,” Fortune said, his voice getting that quiet, deadly tone. “I don’t want one breath of scandal to hurt Michael.”
“I would never do that to him!”
“You don’t understand what it’s like to love someone. But I’m warning you now, if you fall in love with some man, I’ll let you go, but you can’t take Michael.”
“I understand.”
“You’re trembling,” he said, frowning at her.
“I thought I was going to lose him!” She pulled from his grasp and wiped her eyes.
“Claire,” he said, his voice changing to an impersonal tone, “I told you, we can have the physical side of marriage if you want, or I’ll refrain from touching you.”
She looked into his crystal eyes, barely able to think beyond Michael. “I don’t know anything about men. For now, since you don’t love me”—she felt the heat rise in her cheeks—“I would rather we didn’t have anything physical.”
“I have needs and I’ll satisfy them, but I swear to you I’ll be discreet. I wouldn’t hurt Michael with scandal either. You’ll never know, and neither will any of our friends.”
She nodded, unable to consider anything except that she could be Michael’s mother and watch him grow up.
“As much as possible I want us to be friends,” he said solemnly, and she nodded.
“I think that’s possible if you become less angry with me.”
“I told you, the anger will pass. We’ve managed to travel together well enough. Michael will be happier if he thinks we’re happy.”
“I agree.”
“I want to share a bedroom.”
She looked up at him sharply, drawing in her breath.
“It’ll look better to servants, it’ll give us a better chance to become close, and you may change your mind about the physical part.” He dropped his hands from his hips. “I promise you, I will never force myself on you.”
She nodded, not caring at the moment what requirements he placed on her if it meant keeping Michael.
He held out his hand. “Then we have a bargain.”
She reached out to give him her hand, a peculiar sensation racing across her nerves as she pledged herself to him. His fingers closed around hers, his grasp strong and firm, and she shook his hand solemnly. He turned away abruptly and strode outside, and she wondered what he was feeling. Was he grieving for his lost Marilee? Was he already having second thoughts? Was he wishing she was Marilee?
Claire crossed the room and tiptoed in to look at Michael. His curls were damp against his forehead, his chest bare, the sheet pushed down to his waist. He looked young and frail and vulnerable. Feeling love well up, she brushed the damp curls from his face, her heart singing with joy that she wasn’t going to have to give him up. When she turned, Fortune was standing in the doorway. He had shed his shirt and was barefoot. With a final glance at Michael, she rose and crossed the room. Fortune stepped aside as she entered their bedroom.
When he closed the door behind her, she turned to face him, drawing in her breath. The soft glow of the lamp highlighted his wide shoulders. Her gaze ran across his broad chest, the mat of thick black curls, his flat stomach, and her pulse jumped. Blushing because she shouldn’t have looked him over in such a bold manner, she glanced up to meet his gaze.
“I still want to tell Michael the truth in the morning. He has to know Marilee was his mother.”
“I understand,” she answered, feeling the first touch of worry tinge her joy.
“We’r
e close enough that we can ride into New Orleans tomorrow and to my brother’s house. We can be married there or wait until we get to Atlanta. Since I’m registering us in hotels as husband and wife, I figure we might as well marry in New Orleans. There won’t be a wedding trip except to go home to Atlanta.”
“New Orleans would be good,” she answered solemnly, frightened he would change his mind. “The sooner we wed, the happier I’ll be.”
“I won’t change my mind,” he said dryly. “We should notify your father, and if you want to go visit him, you may.”
She nodded. “I’ll write. After all this time I don’t have any wish to go home unless he’s ill and wants me to come.”
Fortune crossed the room to a table with a decanter of brandy. He held up the bottle. “Would you like some?”
“No, thank you,” she answered.
He poured a glass and took his out to the balcony. She removed her shoes and stocking and climbed into bed, staring into the darkness. She shifted and could see him sitting on the balcony, his long legs propped on the rail, while he sipped the brandy. She wondered what he was thinking. When she thought about a physical union with him, her nerves became raw. She didn’t want that when the man didn’t love her. Tonight she was just thankful for Fortune O’Brien’s generosity.
And suppose Fortune fell in love again?
She pushed aside the worry. All that was important was she would not lose Michael.
She was awake when Fortune came inside and sank onto the bed. When she heard him breathing evenly, she turned carefully to study him, feeling heat rise in her as she looked at his long length. Within days he would be her husband, bound to her by law.
She turned back to stare at the ceiling, wondering how badly Michael would take learning the truth about his mother’s death. Would he hate her for what she had done? Worries plagued her, but she loved him deeply, and she felt he knew she did. After the shock wore away, she hoped he would remember how much she loved him.
The next morning when she stirred and opened her eyes, Fortune was shaving. She watched him through lowered lids, thinking he was incredibly handsome, her pulse beating faster when she thought about his proposal and her acceptance. He would be her husband! Her gaze ran over his faded denim pants, down to his dusty boots, and back up to his bare chest.
“Michael isn’t up yet, but as soon as he’s dressed, I want to talk to him,” Fortune said quietly, his gaze shifting to meet hers in the mirror.
Embarrassed that he had caught her looking at him, she blushed. How had he known she was awake? “Whatever you want.”
“That way we’ll go eat and then ride south. He’ll be too busy tending his horse to brood over what he’s been told.”
He continued to shave in silence while she climbed out of bed. Hanging her head down, she brushed her hair over her head. When she flipped it behind her to apply some more strokes, she caught him watching her with a solemn, intense look while he buttoned his blue chambray shirt.
“I’ll leave you alone. Let’s let Michael get dressed and ready to go, and then we’ll tell him.”
She nodded, dreading the moment. “Can we tell him first that we plan to wed?”
“Yes. I think the idea of our marrying will help him because I know he loves you.”
“Thank you. You’re very generous.”
“And I love Michael very much. That’s why I’m doing this.” He left the room and she swallowed nervously as he closed the door. As soon as she married, according to law, a husband was master of his wife, so Fortune would control her, and she would become dependent on someone else again. She washed, dressing in the freshly laundered calico. She studied herself in the mirror: the dress was worn, but since it was clean, she felt better wearing it. She turned to join Fortune while Michael had the bedroom to himself to wash and dress.
Fortune stood beside the French doors, and as they waited for Michael, her nervousness grew. When the boy appeared, his black hair was wet and combed down, his worn cotton shirt tucked into his patched denim pants, his dark eyes filled with eagerness. Fortune turned around.
“Michael, we have some things to talk about before we go down to eat breakfast,” he said gently.
“Yes, sir.”
“First, Claire and I have agreed to get married.”
Michael looked from one to the other with such eagerness that her heart seemed to turn over. “Criminy! You’re going to marry,” he said, his voice filled with wonder, “and you’ll be my father!” Breaking into a broad grin, he ran across the room, and Fortune caught him up in his arms to hug him.
“I’m glad you’re going to marry!” he exclaimed. “I told Mama you might marry her, and she said you wouldn’t marry again.”
Fortune looked over Michael’s head at her and she blushed. “Michael, come here and sit down,” she said, patting the sofa beside her. “I have some things to tell you too.”
“Yes, ma’am!” he said as Fortune set him down and turned away. When Michael ran across the room, she noticed his pants were shorter. Was he growing again? she wondered, realizing he was going to be tall like his father. While he perched on the sofa, she reached over to take his hand. His wide eyes gazed up at her while he wiggled slightly, as if he found it difficult to sit still.
“I love you, Michael.”
“I love you too,” he replied in his high, childlike voice.
“I want to tell you about when you were born. You don’t know what really happened, and it’s time you do.”
His eyes widened as he stared at her. “What happened?”
Noticing that Fortune stood in front of a window, his back to them, she took a deep breath. There was no easy way to tell Michael the truth. Praying that he wasn’t hurt too badly, she squeezed his hand and tried to fight back her tears.
“Michael, when I was a girl, I lived in North Carolina. One night I was going to the barn to see about my horse. When I was in the barn, I heard someone moaning. There was a beautiful young woman in one of the horse stalls. She was ill and she had a tiny baby with her. She gave me the baby and asked me to take care of him. She died that night because she was very sick.”
Michael’s eyes were huge. She continued, “I held the baby all that night, and the next day I begged my father to let me keep the little baby boy. My father wouldn’t, and placed the baby in an orphans’ home. My father wanted me to wed a man I didn’t want to marry, so one night I ran away from home and went to the orphanage and told them the family had been found for the baby and I was to take him back to them. They gave the little baby boy to me and I ran away with him.”
“That was me?” he asked, tilting his head to study her.
“Yes, it was.”
“You’re not my mother? She was my mother?”
“Yes, Michael. She gave birth to you, and that night in the barn, she asked me to take care of you and I promised her I would.”
“You’re my mother!” he exclaimed, suddenly throwing himself at her. He wrapped his arms around her neck. “You’re my mother, not her!”
“I love you, Michael,” she said, ignoring tears that spilled on her cheeks as she hugged his slender body, “even though I’m not the mother who gave birth to you. She loved you very much, and I love you very much.”
“You’re my mother!” he insisted.
“Michael, listen to me,” she said, extricating herself from his arms around her neck. “Michael, I’ll always be a mother to you. But you also have a mother who gave birth to you, loved you very much, and died. And you have a father who did not die. I told you that he died to explain the lack of a father to you because I ran away with you. Before she died, your mother didn’t tell me her name or your father’s name, but she did tell me your name. Your father is alive and loves you. That night she told me your name was Michael O’Brien. Michael, Colonel O’Brien—”
Michael turned to look at Fortune, who was watching them now. His eyes were red. A muscle worked in Fortune’s jaw, and she realized he was fighting to con
trol his emotions. “I’m your—” he started to say, taking a deep breath and moving toward Michael, tears filling his eyes. Michael ran to him, and Fortune caught the boy up to hug him.
Michael clung to him, and she could see Fortune’s eyes squeezed shut, see his tears.
She retreated to the far end of the room, waiting until finally she heard Michael’s high voice. “You’re my real father?”
“Yes, I am. Claire told you how she took you from the orphanage. Your grandfather is a stern, harsh man. He didn’t want me to marry your mother. One night when I wasn’t home, he took both of you from me to go to Georgia. Your mother became ill and ran away from him, trying to get back to me. She died as Claire told you. When you disappeared with Claire, your grandfather wrote me that both of you, you and your mother, had died. I didn’t know you were alive until a few years ago, and then I started searching for you. I’ve had a detective agency searching for you.”
“Detectives?” Michael asked, looking back and forth between them.
“Now I’ve found you, and the best solution seems to be for me to marry Claire because she’s the only mother you know.”
“Yes, sir.” Michael turned to look at her. “Mama?”
She moved toward him, wondering what was running through his mind. He came to take her hand. “I’m glad you took me away from the orphans’ home, and I’m glad you and Colonel O’Brien are going to marry,” he said fiercely.
She nodded, leaning down to kiss his soft cheek.
“Michael,” Fortune said, moving to his side and swinging him up in his arms. “It’s going to be different at first, but I’d like you to call me Papa instead of Colonel O’Brien.”
“Papa,” he said, giving Fortune a hug around the neck.
Fortune looked at her, smiling, his features softening. For a moment all his animosity vanished. She smiled in return, realizing that Michael had accepted the truth and adjusted to it easily. Fortune set the child down.